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Allen Wilbert Oct 2013
Zombies Or Rabies

Walking around one afternoon,
foaming at the mouth, like a rabid raccoon.
Was I bitten by a dog,
I couldn't tell through the fog.
Is Cujo on the loose,
with a possum, I tried to ******.
Walking sideways to the local clinic,
people are laughing, thinking it's a gimmick.
Feeling like a poisoned zombie,
starting to cry and wanting my mommy.
Cars are trying to run me over,
I'm playing Frogger and red rover.
At the point, where I can't even speak,
I am way up on ****'s creek.
This might happen to you if you're bit,
sure wish I had a survival kit.
I feel the need to feed on flesh,
it tastes so good and so fresh.
Blood is dripping down my face,
Walmart seemed like the right place.
No one cares about rednecks and minorities,
I may have rabies, but I still have my priorities.
Old people and fat ones too,
what other kind of people are better to chew.
Am I a zombie or severely rabid,
whatever it is it's spreading so rapid.
People I've killed are starting to rise,
it's Halloween, so we need no disguise.
Inside Walmart is the walking dead,
old women with no teeth are giving me head.
All the doors got bolted shut,
a crowded Walmart is doing the zombie strut.
The military has surrounded the store,
foaming at the mouth, is so worth dying for.
Can hear the jets as they fly by,
their about to bomb Walmart, till we all die.
I escaped through a secret trap door,
I'm about to go on a feeding frenzy tour.
Nicholas Foster Sep 2016
While the sparrow flies, the angels cry
For the beauty of you and i
Our passion shouts, and envy pouts
Like peasants who cant get dry

Friends at first, turned to love that hurts
For hearts are heavy now
Because nature evaded, a love that never faded
Until our trembling lips allowed

Gods have been shaken, once you became taken, because this passion knows no bounds
The heavens fear, when our hearts are near
Because together our love cannot be drown

Once a lie, became hate denied
Now the fairy tales are true
You are the one, and like the setting sun
Our rise will always ensue

*** there is no limit, to our absent gimmick
This is real as pain
With lovely bones, worthy of thrones
We are as natural as the rain
Ashutosh Joshi Sep 2019
It's that time of the year again
Our politicians put on a new persona
Nothing new compared to the previous gimmick
Decade old cliched stuff, on the repeat.

A costly road ahead with a hefty expense
Back-channels, bargains and deals , none can comprehend
Funding is secured, the plans are now been drawn
Delegation to the foot-soldiers, with ease and control
The demography and previous trends have all been accounted
War-rooms being set up, as the arsenal needs to be surmounted.

Minute by minute, hour by hour
The ***** games and abuse of power
Horse trading has begun,
The influential will re-run
Money, honey or even the hard ways
Just break the loyalty and build pathways
Media Cells activated on the double
Spitting venom and creating trouble
Plethora of photoshops and planted stories
Peddling narratives, worst than conspiracy theories.

Meanwhile on the ground, a different game being played
The pawns as usual disillusioned and dismayed
Onslaught begins - First phase division
Divide by nationality, status or religion
Hate-mongering and fear-mongering
No holds barred
Political-correctness and propaganda not that far apart
All kind of theatrics have been put to use
Needless to discount the petty rhetoric and all the abuse

Both left and right wing ideologies hand-crafted to look cool
To trap the gullible and make them drool
And nationalistic pride sprayed like chem-trails
Beyond jingoism, everything else fails
Morality and conscience have vanished into thin air
Utopian lands being promised, as if almost here.

The voter's are intelligent, they keep reiterating
It's just a bait though, to lure them for voting
But then again, what is the voter supposed to do?
Greater evil or lesser evil are the choices to make
Can it get any worst, is his obvious take
Confusion, delusion and a hasty decision made
Now crib, cry, swear and the same blame game
Cometh the next election, its the same game play
The vicious cycle repeats
Politicians are back to deceive and cheat.

Alright! Been there, done that
To err is human they say
Well! Guess what?
I'll willfully repeat that!
Max Chisholm Jul 2010
****!

**** I felt like I could not stop
It felt too good when I’d pop
9 months later we’d have our crop
All came from a single drop

**** now we’re dealing with problems of the sort
Looks like we are headed to court
Could have been avoided if she’d just abort
And now I’m destined for child support

**** I don’t even know how it started
She was much more than half hearted
Otherwise we would have parted
Usually they do once I’ve farted

**** I’m not a role-model, do not mimic
Not trying to sell you no gimmick
Believe me man, it was no picnic
I spent 6 months in that clinic

**** she passed on a burn
Didn’t know right away but soon I’d learn
That her **** was filled with concern
I guess that’s karma cause now it’s my turn

****!
Haha, "****" would this ****! Haha
Sedoo Ashivor Nov 2015
I had a red parrot with a long beak
It was a smart bird I aptly named  Nick
One day, it caught a cold and fell sick
It refused to give a speech all week
Even its favourite words, it wouldn't speak
Dear parrot's future seemed very bleak

Off for a solution I went to seek
Out of many I made my pick
For the services of a vet called Vic
She was beautiful and brilliant, very chic
Just as I heard, her talents were slick
Her office was neat, her armpits didn't reek

During treatment, my Nick was quite meek
I excused myself to quickly take a leak
Suddenly, from the restroom I heard a kick
I hurried across the hallway to take a sharp peek
And what I saw made my shocked jaws tick
My skinned bird was hanging on a stick
Over a flaming fire laid on a burnt brick

What had I done to deserve such a trick?
Why would Vet Vic perform this flick?
I peered at her carefully but it didn't click
So I wrote this poem and put on lipstick.


REALLY:
Nick is healthy again, it was only a gimmick
I am so happy now, I always wear lipstick ☺
Staring at the long road ahead
Uncertain of where it will lead
During this time of pandemic
To stay at home is my gimmick.

Something’s whispering in my mind
It says, “Let’s go out and unwind.”
Hey! Businesses are still closed
Waiting to serve their purpose.

But then, my hearts’ sole desire
Keeps blazing like a campfire.
It says, “Let’s do something
Or else, we’ll get nothing.”

Just don’t mind about the profit
As long as you’re happy with it
Now, I’ve decided to propose
To serve others is my purpose.
I wrote this poem for people who love to serve other people in whatever way they can.  This is my way of expressing my gratitude to all the front liners and volunteers during this time of the COVID-19 pandemic.  Thanks for reading and visiting my page. :-)
JL Mar 2016
Leaflet or scorpion I care
Not
I am unstoppable
And loved
Looking not to the left or right
Walking straight honest
Fist clenched anarchist
I am true from seed
A Greyhound pure breed
I've caught a scent
Now in chase full speed
Cherishing
Pangs of honesty
Stabbing delicate ego
I stand alone at the
Gallows
Revolting against this
Modern world
Til my dying breath
Fully bloomed
My life will be
A chrysanthemum
Soaked by dew
Dyed oxblood petals
Sword and pen
Will of lead
Some reggae in head
4 dogs & a laugh
By music I fly
Rebeling with grace
Saving no face
So out of step that
Even the boot on my throat
Gives me hope   
Without gimmick
Love simplistic
Révolte contre le monde moderne
Shannon Hasse Aug 2019
Chauvinistic,
Idealistic,
Gone ballistic,
Be realistic,
I am a statistic,
Optimistic can be sadistic, unrealistic.
Think I’m pessimistic? Acidic?
I’m just specific
For me, you are parasitic,
Made me a critic,
Made my life a mimic the horrific,
But it was all just a gimmick,
Not idyllic.
We’re all narcissistic,
So stop being a critic.
Get simplistic,
Value the mystic, the artistic,
Or you’ll be just a cynic.
Take away your knowledge, Doktor.
It doesn't butter me up.

You say my heart is sick unto.
You ought to have more respect!

you with the goo on the suction cup.
You with your wires and electrodes

fastened at my ankle and wrist,
******* up the biological breast.

You with your zigzag machine
playing like the stock market up and down.

Give me the Phi Beta key you always twirl
and I will make a gold crown for my molar.

I will take a slug if you please
and make myself a perfectly good appendix.

Give me a fingernail for an eyeglass.
The world was milky all along.

I will take an iron and press out
my slipped disk until it is flat.

But take away my mother's carcinoma
for I have only one cup of fetus tears.

Take away my father's cerebral hemorrhage
for I have only a jigger of blood in my hand.

Take away my sister's broken neck
for I have only my schoolroom ruler for a cure.

Is there such a device for my heart?
I have only a gimmick called magic fingers.

Let me dilate like a bad debt.
Here is a sponge. I can squeeze it myself.

O heart, tobacco red heart,
beat like a rock guitar.

I am at the ship's prow.
I am no longer the suicide

with her raft and paddle.
Herr Doktor! I'll no longer die

to spite you, you wallowing
seasick grounded man.
Egbeyale Oladapo Jan 2014
The beauty shall cease to woo,
As the strength fades as hues

This is a saying, so true
Not some gimmick out of the blues

Winding stairs, so long
Bones again, not strong

Black hair to soft turns grey
White teeth to gums, give way

Youth bloom, soon breaks
And no man to say nay,

It is called, Old age.
I W Jun 2013
I close the door on you once more just like before
When you chose my prose and left me so morose
With a critique so antique it made me feel a freak
And a monster can't foster child with good posture
Even offsetting such upsetting features with writing
Of wonders beyond measure for blunders are forever
In eyes of a god, what surprise at the rise of this fraud,
Automatic to cry, just a gimmick, Sorry and pathetic
These words must be to beautiful birds with fortitude
Enough to crash the gates and smash the plates
Rich hooligans do feast upon fins of beast and fish
In comfortable style I rumble and perspire from fire
Within my soul, trouble staying full, double time this lull-
abye, goodbye peach of my eye who makes my heart awry.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
What is so important to address
something to react to the illumine
fruity to their balance sips like
a goldmine
He sways passed you and trips
Rose Poumedeur right near your* lips

Both stumbling and boasting over her
imported wine dress

The swinging parasol his cork topped
delights
Those imported by his number nights
Cabernet Sauvignon
Hooked to there eyes
Million stars to lift
Her petite waistline
Like heartline of Valentine
wine felt dresses

Outnumbered you by four words
The strenuous tiresome love-wine
Be mine the stargaze* dazing inside the sunsets
So bottled inside her mission
His love how it aged in her
in  a good retrospect like
Deep cherry confessions

The import from a trade surplus
She got overlooked got flown in place
like a sticker
The smart star- reservation 
 high-demand book
To seek her

What a chemistry  love- hands creation
She's the many vintage dresses A plus
The pouring of wine of many fusions
The cloudy dress is a minus illusion

She learned her entire lesson
How many times she was moved
around like musical  I tunes of wine
CD collection of Rennaisance
Battling like the fort chair
But someone was moved by her Jazz
type of hair
My lesson my wish was on hold
the mission cruise of the impossible dress
Getting weaved inside someone's
powerful suite but the best suite
and stay
The Fort William Henry until this day
The Fort William Henry Hotel like no
other sorts and what sports

Japan imports 77.8 billion exports
more than imports
Lackadaisical called the
breath of sunshine
The daisy sundress sitting on the
veranda with Fort Williams and the
Henry the eight I am children

I've been sunbathing looking at the boat
The Minne Haha thinking of MaMa
Someone was singing like Lady GAGA

The matter of great expression of words
Hummingbirds at Lake George
Picking the best birth of seeds
Imported wine what our heart needs
Rising demands of the meat
like the paradise of lovebirds
Her dress was to heal the world
Those wildflowers were the
sort of thing silence is the  best thing
Somehow not the hype of the bling
or diamond ring
Sometimes the Goddess
sun shines more

Making her feel loved to sing
Her dress had the gimmick to move
What a rural fun tree orange grove
Like the referee wine shopping spree
Everyday people were moved by her
gift of imported wines
Her gravity of smiles he's mine
Her face steams like the highest
light beam very well bred and fine
The long winding trail her
corset gown
Started to make head waves to the
higher forces
So enlightening the lakes
such cascades
Those wine deep waves romantic
To prelude to a kiss the Cosmic
The Islander-border lace her face
To love and honor her more

Not necessarily less that
divine moment
We should never miss
Lake George rippling waves
On her outskirts

Princess Kelly cheese Italian wine
Naples deserts
The evergreen  long dress
Shined your Highness the
Roman pillars
How he grabbed her waist dancing
like the Gatsby
Gave her such splendor everlasting sip
But the imported wine was deeper

To Set up the date
To Make- the wine up
In the cellar aged hours to perfect
What a stir over her dress-up deep ruby
wine start to pour end
of a new beginning
subject
To book the trip Lake George New York
All you had to do

Go to the Fort William Henry
Hotel like a home with family
So many friendly faces with smiles
All you have to do is show up
This is about imports but I love the Fort William Henry in Lake George is a great place to stay on vacation I sort of tied it in ribbon-like gifts of imported wines tell me what you think
Maple Mathers Jan 2016
(The Art of Failing Goodbye)

I covet your closeness; how could I not? You were my world once upon a mime. Honestly. Though my pride will deny it, our demise left me discarded. Hiding amongst the few collateral souvenirs: stupidity and bitterness.

I bestowed to you the best of me; although you never asked me to. My heart, body, and soul - yours for the taking - a decision made on my own accord. Because you never asked me for any of it. You never asked me to do the things I did. But I loved you - innocent as that. Thus, relinquishing logic entirely.

Hardly more than a stranger, I felt I knew you; unaware of the lidded fabulist within. A mere tourist of my chassis; enthralled by my looks. Enthralled by just me. “In love” so deep, you attempted suicide twice. Upon my rejection – in theory. They almost beat you to death, and left you to the wolves. Deserved it? An understatement tenfold. And yet. My compassion was what saved you.

I protected the same entity who pulverized my own.

They all said you were no good – they said a mythomaniac would leach onto me until there was nothing left, ****** dry – then you would leave. Onto the next; life on the move. Daddy said you’d leave me in shambles. Was he right?

…Duh.

A question sheathed in rhetoric; absolutely. A black hole does not give back. Wake UP, m Maple – Ali – Oliver – whatever you are today.mWake up, you ******. And look here.

You ruthied(sp?) me last Halloween, took my body as your own, enabled a cycle I’ll no longer accept. The girl who cried ****…an alias to forever haunt me.

No one believed me then. Why would they now?

This final hurrah; a Halloween blackout. Wherein, you personified my worst nightmare. A cruel and unusual punishment – at best. And then.

You slithered and slinked away; no apologies – no goodbye for me. You’d taken all of me. Just like they said. All my value – dismembered and pocketed. Off you went…as predicted. Onto the next…life on the move.

You etched your gimmick; smuggling trust; squirreling intuition - these morals I'd entombed - you burrowed away. Promising Eden, you offered a map; directing me as I sailed the route. The garden, however, was not what I found. My catafalque(coffin) negated expectations you set; a utopia of dazzling, abundant nature. For, you'd devised a mousetrap; and I'd glissaded willingly inside…

For the very last time, gaze entwined. Blue on brown.

SNAP.
H Phone Mar 2018
I remember that one poem I wrote
I felt like my brick for a heart it could erode
But reading what came after makes me sick
Because this raw emotional poem’s contents
Have turned into a ******* gimmick
I want to feel.
Elasbriel Mar 2013
DEFINITION OF *****

I question your gimmick
Lame limericks
Their cryptic
More mystic
Unrealistic

Ya ****** it
On chronic
Contagious like the bubonic
Hooked hydroponics
Pathetically neurotic

So drop it
your **** ain't ****
Just tragically prosthetic
Prophetical *******
You think that u know ****
You blow it
Thats classic.


CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****


Its 101 basic
I didn't quit this
You lost it
Worth only Drunken kisses
I'm pretty when you chase it
Your too shallow to accept it
Together we're right
But my body ain't tight
To ur likes

its your ****
That's a *****
Only looks for them tricks
Your dellusionally idiotic
To think that ya got it
When trix are for kids

Your games hit and miss
Happily ever afters not bliss
First loves kiss is just a playlist


CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****

You Can't find love in this mess
Be a girl wear a dress
Listen more talk less
Don't change who you are
Just your flesh

Tell the truth is said to me
Love was free for the taking
Or so I believed
Your lies used as feed

But your pet I am not
Yeah I guess you forgot
What yo ma shoulda taught
That one shots all life's got

CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****

The good bits stole away
By this crap game you play
All day, you just sway
On your way

Thinking your owed
By some ****** up code
But your method or mode
Is about to explode
Like mace
In your face
With no trace
Your erased

You ain't even today
Your the past, Yesterday
Can't change that
My ma used to say
Just look for tomorrow
in your ARKs of today

CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME
****
YOU MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
THATS WHY YOU'LL ALWAYS BE *****
Vishak Narayanan Jun 2014
Aye there son, would you care to hear a tale,
A story less often told, with an impact strong as a gale.
So come and sit beside me and I shall change your life,
You are in my world now, you are in my hive.

There was once a man, only legends told
could bring a rain of fire, could make young, anything old.
He tamed the valiant storms and angered the shyest breeze,
The minds of every blind scholar he did tease.

As his actions were, so was his conscience.
As he could foretell the beyond, all he needed was his magic lens.
So he willingly helped them, those who frantically approached him,
all in a price not according to anyones whim.

Yet hundreds came seeking his unquestionable power,
Those, who wanted to live a fairy tale and a happily ever after.
Some lost half their lives, some their first children,
And others lived their lives under the vicious soothsayer's burden.

And then one day, people wanted this gimmick to stop.
They wanted to live reasonable lives, the bubble they wanted to pop.
And the people paid no more visits to the soothsayer.
And his whereabouts became dead as the cells on the nails of your finger.

Well thats the end i'm afraid. Pretty foggy isn't it?
My vision through this lens has become blur, as the life of any common bandit.
And now you have heard my story, your life will be a worthy journey.
What is the price you wish to pay me?
C S Cizek Apr 2015
I made notes of docking posts
pointing out to murky reflections
of tourists that didn’t have time
for a souvenir mug or a picture
with a black trumpeter content with his brass,
and nothing else, blowing life into the seagull
sky, making the clouds pop and drop spray-
mist jazz, which accompanied his trumpet
with a gentle washboard scrape.
He beat his heel to the thousand pin-drops
of passerby earrings, crab sweatpant draw-
strings, and trawl nets dissolving into the sea.
Baltimore filled the margins
of a travel notebook alongside
pencil sketches of the Aquarium,
Prufrockian split claws
wrapped in algae bandages,
that homeless man weakly thumbing
through a pocket bible, the 32
cents wearing sea salt jackets,
and my cold girlfriend pulling on patron
sweaters in an art museum closet.
But it’s all a gimmick.
It’s $22 crab cakes
and paint-splatter-printed
sweatshirts that say New York
or D.C. or Everything on a Disposable
Kodak Camera.


Tired of the idea, I threw the page
over the edge, hoping to drown
it in green, but I never heard it hit
the water. I braced myself on a life
ring rack, leaned over,
and watched it settle into a natural
barge of dead leaves and orange peels
while sea foam circled
it like a bed skirt that’s only
noticed for the few seconds spent stripping
down before going to sleep
just to wake up to rain on the Royal Sonesta,
kids racing down the hall, the obligatory
alarm clock,
and the black trumpeter’s groove
four floors down.
A poem originally titled "Guts," but, after some restructuring, became this. I dig it.

— The End —